


coincidence or a sign

by invaderssayni



Series: it's been a long, hot summer [1]
Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Gen, It Came From Tumblr, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invaderssayni/pseuds/invaderssayni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He repeats her name to himself like a mantra, and he eventually falls back asleep.</p><p>But it was Nick Carraway from next door in his bed, drooling on his nightshirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coincidence or a sign

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally got around to posting this from my Gatsby tumblr! [the url is thesociallyawkwardgatsby; if you've seen this before, that's why] It took a long time because I could not for the life of me come up with a good title, and this still isn't the right one exactly but it's good enough for the time being so I'm just going to go with it at this point because a month is a ridiculous amount of time to quibble over titles. It's also been slightly edited!
> 
> It's pretty short, but I was thinking of writing a companion fic or two, depending on whether a) I can find my notes for where I was going with the sequel and b) I can drag myself away from the other fics I'm working on long enough to finish it. So um, hopefully that will be a thing that will happen.

Jay Gatsby doesn’t manage to find his neighbour until the party is drawing to a close. Technically, he doesn’t find Nick at all; Nick bumps into him on his way back into the house, accidentally splashing champagne on both of their suits. 

“There you are, old sport!” Gatsby says, delicately confiscating the glass and placing it on a nearby table. “Enjoying yourself?”

“I was just telling Jordan about…!” Nick begins cheerfully, then trails off, focusing intently on the man in front of him. “I’m terribly sorry, Jay, was that my fault?” he asks, gesturing at the damp spot on Gatsby’s shirt.

“It’s no trouble at all, old sport,” he reassures him, “I’ve plenty of shirts, but your suit…” A thought occurs to him, and he directs Nick toward the staircase. “Say, why don’t you sleep here tonight? I think my pyjamas might fit you.” 

“Oh, that’s”—Nick turns red and mumbles the rest—“really not necessary, you don’t have to…next door…your shirt…”

“But I want you to stay, old sport,” Gatsby replies with an easy smile. “Come upstairs, we’ll find you something to sleep in that isn’t drenched in alcohol.”

 

He leads Nick upstairs to his bedroom, ignoring the scattered half-mumbled protests, and lets him sit on the bed while he looks for pyjamas. He takes his favourite pair for himself, and selects a few sets in different fabrics and colours. He keeps up a steady stream of casual chatter as he does this in an attempt to set Nick at ease, aware that this was a situation that could turn awkward very easily if he let it. 

He slowly descends the staircase, arms full of pyjamas, still talking. “I wasn’t sure if you would prefer silk or flannel, old sport…” He trails off, noticing for the first time that the reason Nick hadn’t responded to anything he had said in the past several minutes was that he had simply fallen asleep. 

Gatsby looks at the sleeping man and sighs, dropping the stack of pyjamas on the bed. At the very least, he thinks, Nick’s tie and shoes would have to come off, and he should remove the jacket if possible. Perhaps the shirt, too, if the alcohol had soaked through. He quickly changes into his pyjamas and begins undressing Nick. The tie and shoes come off without much trouble, but it takes a solid five minutes to wrestle his suit jacket off of him, and after unbuttoning the top few buttons of Nick’s shirt, Gatsby gives up. Surely Nick would understand, he thinks to himself, too tired to do much more than turn out the light before falling asleep next to his friend.

 

The world is grey and muted when Gatsby wakes up just before sunrise. Taking stock of the room, he cannot help noticing that Nick seems to have decided that his chest makes a better pillow than the half-dozen or so actual pillows that had once been neatly arranged on the bed and are now scattered across the room. This strikes him as strangely endearing, and without thinking he brings his hand up to stroke Nick’s hair. He smiles to himself and closes his eyes, deciding that it was entirely too early to be awake. 

It occurs to him five minutes later just how easy it would be to love this man, who Gatsby has begun to suspect is half in love with him already, and he opens his eyes, surprised at himself. After all, his life plan has already been rewritten around Daisy.

“Daisy.  _ Daisy _ _._ ” He repeats her name to himself like a mantra, and he eventually falls back asleep.

But it was Nick Carraway from next door in his bed, drooling on his nightshirt.


End file.
